a thousand winters for this

A thousand winters
for this:
white spray
against blue sound
and my babies
giggling
into the wind,
save one
warm on my chest.

If I saw the scene
in a painting --
our little boat
under sapphire skies,
ferries with fresh paint
and the mountains ringed
in cloudy crowns --

Contrived, I might say,
or sentimental.

But here now,
real:
I would live
a thousand winters
for this summer.

baby days

These are the days
of nakedness
with no shame,
no guilt, no blame,
no broken rules.
It's always OK
to cry,
and you can't
make any mistakes.
No wonder the Teacher
tells us to be
like you.